


124 - Archie, Marry Me (by Alvvays)

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Songfic NonCatfish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 16:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17429138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “Can u maybe do one based on the song achie,marry me by alvvays? It’s very cute, maybe like Van writes the song about "archie”, about how she doesn’t want to get married just yet. He adores her so much?“





	124 - Archie, Marry Me (by Alvvays)

**Author's Note:**

> So, for the sake of meeting the prompt, we’re going to pretend that Alvvays did not write Archie, Marry Me.

It was almost 9:00 pm and you'd not left the house since… since when was it? Maybe the day before, in the morning? You ran across the road for milk. Or, was that the day before that… You went to the markets at some point. Fuck. How long had you been inside? Rolling over in bed, you watched Van sleep. His freckles were fading without the sunlight to keep them dark. Frowning, you let yourself mourn for them for a moment. Then, you poked him in the ribs. He moaned and pushed your hand away. He stretched out under the blanket.

"Van, when did we last go anywhere?" you whispered. He shrugged, not opening his eyes. Looking over at the alarm clock next to the bed, you sat up straight in shock. "Van! It's like, late! I thought it was dark because it was still early morning! What the fuck." You got out of bed and walked to the window. Yep. Definitely night time. "What day is it?" You could hear him chuckle. He opened his eyes and rolled onto his back. You moved to sit on him, straddling his hips. He held both hands up and you leant your weight onto his arms, fingers tangled.

"Don't know,"

"We could have been in here for a week,"

"So?"

"So?! It's not healthy. Come on. Get up. We'll shower and go out for dinner. See what the guys are up to, yeah?"

He shrugged again, and you undressed next to the bed, forcing him awake. He followed you into the bathroom and undressed too. In the shower, you washed each other's hair and kissed hard.

When you pulled on clean clothes, you realised you'd accidentally dressed as Van's twin. You both had black jeans and black boots. Van's jeans were over his though; yours tucked in. He had a black long sleeve shirt on, and you had a black sweater pulled over a grey singlet.

"We look like we're going to a fucking funeral," you said. He shrugged and picked his black velvet jacket up. "Really?"

"You're the one that loves Halloween," he replied, walking from the room.

Out in the real world, you established you'd spent three days and two nights in your bedroom, hardly leaving at all. Sometimes that happened when Van came back from tour. You had to make up for lost time, and your physical health became a secondary priority to that. Walking and talking again, your stomach rumbled with hunger. Van picked Indian and ordered enough food to feed a family of four. The pakora was your favourite.

"Your mum called yesterday… or… whenever," Van said, watching you eat.

"What? Where was I?"

"Asleep. She said that she wants us to go over for dinner,"

"Okay. Why didn't she call me?"

Van grinned, and you knew the answer. She'd asked him again why he'd not proposed to you. The relationship had existed for six years; since you were both 19 years old. You'd lived together for three years. Your mother liked Van, for the most part, but she did not like that you'd moved in together before marriage. She was incredibly traditional, and despite the rest of your family explaining that nobody gets married before moving in together anymore, she held that you were "living in sin." The first time she worded it like that, Van had to hold in laughter.

"Maybe she's right,"

"We're not talking about this. We're not getting married," you said, not making eye contact. Continuing to eat, you could pretend that it was not a big deal. 

"Y/N! Why? You love me!"

"Yeah, I do. And we're good like this,"

"Are we?" You looked up at him, hurt. He didn't mean it like that, but it didn't change how the words sounded. "I know what you're afraid of-"

"Van. Don't. I don't want to talk about."

The conversation was over, and you'd won the round again. Didn't much feel like a victory though.

Later, after a few too many drinks, you were sitting on a brick wall next to Larry. Van and Benji were building a tower of the empty boxes and bottles out the back of the bar. You'd come out for a smoke, but mischief and trouble were the guys' speciality. Larry handed over the cigarette you were sharing.

"He's started to pick out rings," he said. You did not acknowledge the statement in any way. "Your mum's right… Living in sin, Y/N," he joked. You turned and blew smoke in his face. He laughed.

"Why do you all care so much about my marital status?"

"Because we love you. And him. You're not going to find anyone more suited to you, Y/N. And he ain't gonna love anyone like he loves you." You wouldn't acknowledge that either. Maybe Van would though. He was travelling the world. All those beautiful places; all those beautiful people. There was every possibility he'd set his sights on someone else, and the thought brought you to your knees in panic.

…

A month later, after no more conversations about weddings, you were spending your last night with Van before he left the country again. Side by side on the couch, he was tracing lines between the freckles on your arm.

"You don't think we'll make it, do you?" he said quietly, not looking up, still leaning against you.

"What?"

"That's why you won't marry me. Think I'll find someone better, or that we'll get divorced and instead of paying off your uni debt you'll have to pay for a lawyer or whatever,"

"Van…" You didn't really know what to say because he was completely right. Those were your two fears, and the only things stopping you from becoming Van's fiance. He let your arm go and sat up straight.

"If I'm right, just tell me." He was pleading, and you nodded slowly, not wanting to make it real. He nodded once, stood up and left the room. You pulled your legs up to your chest and bit your lip to try to stop yourself from crying. He's leaving, you thought. He came back though. Sitting on the coffee table in front of you, he had his acoustic guitar and he started to play.

You've expressed explicitly your contempt for matrimony

You've student loans to pay and will not risk the alimony

We spend our days locked in a room content inside a bubble

And in the night time we go out and scour the streets for trouble

Hey, hey, marry me, Archie

A song you'd not heard before. Like most of them, it was about you. He took little parts of you and turned them into characters. Your intensity was Kathleen. Your magnetism was Abby. Your unwillingness to marry was Archie.

"During the summer take me sailing out on the Atlantic

I won't set my sights on other seas, there is no need to panic

So honey take me by the hand and we can sign some papers

Forget the invitations, floral arrangements and bread makers

Hey, hey, marry me, Archie"

The song was slow and gentle and a proposal. When he finished, he laid the guitar down on the floor and watched you for reaction.

"Y/N?" he said when you didn't speak; didn't move.

"Ask me just one more time," you whispered.

He got down on one knee, pulled a velvet box from his pocket and put it in your hand. "Y/N… I fucking love you. Please, for the love of God, babe, marry me?"


End file.
